


sacrifice the exchange

by murakamism



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), Pining, Post-TLJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 13:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17940716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakamism/pseuds/murakamism
Summary: “Are you here to kill me?” Ben asks.There is no animosity in his tone. There is no anger in his posture. It’s a natural question, one without malice or regret. He almost smiles then, and Rey thinks that if she said yes, he probably wouldn't even mind.(Now tired of their stalemate, Rey finally takes matters into her own hands)





	sacrifice the exchange

**Author's Note:**

> [Sacrifice the exchange:](https://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_chess_terms#S) _The intentional exchange of piece of greater value for a piece of smaller value in order to get a more important result. For instance, the exchange of a rook for a minor piece (bishop or knight), or the exchange of a queen for a rook._
> 
>  
> 
> _Or, Ben exchanges his army for a queen._
> 
>  
> 
> First I had a drabble idea of "three times that Rey just stares longingly at Ben through the Force Bond" but then it evolved into... this. I've explored the what-ifs of post-TLJ in other fics, but there are just so many possibilities! These two kids are now the most powerful beings alive in the galaxy and they don't even know it.
> 
> In the words of another AO3 writer: this fic is unbeta'd so you'll have to deal with my mistakes like I do everyday.

She looks at him, more and more often now. Sometimes it's a mere glance, a peek. A sliver of his silhouette at the edge of her vision. The slope of his nose at the corner of her eye. His head, bent down to inspect a holopad, leaving her with nothing but the back of his head to admire.  
  
Then a second turns into five, into thirty. Then a second turns into a whole minute. The tools in Rey's lap lay forgotten as she gazes upon him without his knowing.  
  
At first she had been relieved. The Bond opens when they least expect it, when they are least ready for it. It purrs at the back of their minds, a constant weight that has gone from stifling to comforting. Warm. She doesn't always notice it's come until she looks up to see Ben in the distance, his face hard and his shoulders slumped.  
  
Always, always, his face hard. Sometimes he is masked, and she traces the angry red lines that run through it—like cracks filled in with blood. But sometimes, his face is bare, and she thinks that his mask had been no mask at all, not when it cries out the same anguish that his eyes and mouth display.

At first she had been relieved because he didn't notice her. Maybe he does, and he just refuses to acknowledge it. She won't dare open herself up to him, not when the location of the Resistance's embers is at stake. But that also means that she cannot read him—even when his emotions spill out so thickly through the Force.  
  
This is voyeurism. This is cruel.  
  
He does not look happy.  
  
This should be cause for celebration. He should have known.  
  
Except that she isn't happy either.  
  
Rey ducks her head. She stares at the tools in her hands. A bead of sweat drips down her temple and wets a spot on her leg. The hangar is blisteringly hot with no air circulation. Even for a desert rat, she frowns.  
  
Then she looks up.  
  
Kylo has his back to her. His mask is on, but a single strand of hair has been untucked from his helm. It falls upon the covered skin of his nape. It falls upon his black collar, his cape.  
  
She wants to reach out and touch it. As if sensing her gaze, Ben reaches up absentmindedly. His gloved hand tucks it back in.  
  
Rey swallows. The Force shifts, and he is gone—like he'd been a mirage.  
  
  
  
She feels him _not_ looking at her so hard it burns.  
  
Rey lifts her head. Ben refuses to meet her eyes, instead focusing on the holopad in his hands. His lip is turned down at the side, and his brows are furrowed deep. Rey knows that he can feel her—because she can feel him.  
  
The air crackles between them. Tentative and fearful all at once.  
  
She doesn't know what she wants to do. She busies herself with fixing her blaster, even though she’s doing less fixing and more fiddling. These wires don’t need to be plugged and unplugged a million times. She doesn’t have to polish the cartridge for another couple of minutes.

Even as she stares hard at the weapon in her hands, her mind floats somewhere else. She is hyperaware of the noise in the room: the steady metallic shuffling on her end, the rumbling air vents, the noise of clothes shifting when Ben straightens his back. All of these sounds punctuate the nonexistent conversation between them. Rey doesn’t see the wires between her fingers.

That’s why she doesn’t expect the volt to prick her hand. She yelps, dropping it with an “ouch!”. The blaster falls off her lap and lands on the floor with a clang. She cradles her hand and inspects it, looking for any burns. It’s red, but there are none.

When Rey looks up again, she comes face to face with Ben’s wide eyes. He swallows, those lips trembling, as he sets the holopad down.

“Are you all right?” he asks. Judging by his posture, he’s ready to stand. But maybe he just doesn’t dare to approach. He’s staring at her hand now, trying to judge its condition from five feet away.

“Yes,” Rey says. She levels her voice. “I’m fine. Just a little jolt.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, shutting her mouth tight.

Their eyes meet again. Rey holds his gaze. Both of them should be angrier than they are. Both of them should be more afraid—but not for the reasons they have. They breathe, their chests rising and falling in unison, and Rey only knows this because she feels him, every inch of his beautiful aura through the Force.

She has to pull away. She has to stop—

“Rey,” Ben says, his voice barely a breath, and Rey breaks.

It’s not fair, she thinks, that she’s done so much waiting. What is there left to wait for? For him to leave the First Order to some power-hungry general and go home to his mother? For the Resistance to stop treating her like their savior when all she wanted was a home? For… for…

He stands. The noise of his chair squeaking across the titanium floors is grating to her ears, but she only raises her head to look upon him. His hand is outstretched again, and for a moment they are back in the throne room with all those flames falling upon them.

Ben purses his lips. His eyes are shining. She hears a hundred words whispering through the Bond, all of them passing swiftly but not without catching her attention.

She understands. She feels the same.

Ben finally opens his mouth to speak, and then he is cut off, his figure disappearing from where it had stood in front of her.

 

 

“Our dear Supreme Leader is making an appearance at Riosa,” Poe announces. He crosses his arms over his chest, then nods at everyone else standing around the table. Rey stands right beside him, right by his shoulder. She stares intently at the holographic map in front of her, unwilling to meet the eyes of anyone else in this room—the remnants of the Resistance’s leadership. “While Hux is overlooking a new factory in Hanna City. This is the perfect time to strike.”

Leia is a silent statue. She watches it all unfold with guarded eyes and with her hands folded in front of her lap.

“They won’t know what hit them.” Poe smirks. “My strike team will move on the Finalizer while their shields are down. Everyone will be too focused on Kylo Ren being planetside. They won’t even think of it.”

Another leader shakes his head and covers his face with a palm.

“Hey, hey,” Poe raises a hand. “Does anyone have a better idea? We won’t get another chance like this one.”

“We should be focusing on destroying that new Stormtrooper academy!” another member kicks in.

“Or what about just assassinating Ren and getting it done with?”

“You think you can assassinate _him?_ Be my guest, man.”

“I didn’t mean me!”

“Hey, nobody can do it. I’m with Dameron on this one. Maybe destroying his ship can get him temporarily—”

“Rey could do it.”

A dozen pairs of eyes land on Rey. She tries not to stiffen up, even as she grips her arm guards more securely. She tests her jaw and meets their eyes—fire to fire. Leia sighs and lays a hand on her shoulder, warm and tender.

Rey swallows.

“Yeah!” an older man’s eyes light up. “Don’t forget it. We got a Jedi!”

Poe slings an arm over Rey’s shoulder and shakes her jovially. He laughs.

“Yeah, Rey!” He leans in closer. “You wanna keep Kylo Ren and his security team distracted while we blow up his ship?”

She tries to smile.

“Um…”

“What are you talking about?” Leia cuts in. Her voice is ice, and the room dims. “That’s too dangerous. Rey can’t possibly sacrifice herself to—”

She doesn’t want to kill him. She doesn’t think she can kill him. Rey wonders if Leia feels the same. If she must understand.

But she still wants—

She wants to see him again. There in person, not just through the Force. Maybe meet his eyes from several meters away. Just be sure of what he’s become. Be sure of what he is now.

“We can’t lose her…”

“...She can handle herself…”

“If something goes wrong we can’t save her…”

“Don’t forget about the civilians who might get caught in the crossfire…”

“I’ll go to Riosa,” she announces.

The entire room stills. All sorts of expressions stare back at her. Poe opens his mouth to speak, and she interrupts him with a raised hand.

“But I’m not assassinating anyone,” she says firmly. “I’ll go there and come back with intel. I’ll update you all on the situation on ground.”

“Right, because killing people isn’t the Jedi way.”

“Her face is too distinctive. Are you sure you should be doing a mere surveillance job, Rey?”

“Everyone, be quiet,” Leia commands. They fall away into hushed whispers. When she glances at Rey again, her eyes are soft. “Rey, are you sure?”

Her throat closes up as she nods.

“Yes,” she says. “I want to go.”

Leia looks at her. She feels like the older woman can see right through her, past her skin and into her heart, into her core. A strange emotion passes through Leia’s face, too quick to be analyzed. At the last moment, she presses her lips together in the shadow of a smile.

It’s a familiar expression—one so unexpected that it leaves Rey breathless and reeling.

_Sometimes he smiles in that exact same way. Smiling without smiling at all. Smiling without any joy._

“Leia—”

Leia turns back to the rest of the room.

“I’m assembling a scoping team to accompany Rey,” she announces, and the room erupts into frantic shouting once more.

 

 

 

The bond opens again that evening, flaring out of nowhere like a draft of warm wind. Rey keeps her thoughts shielded, just as she covers the lower half of her face with a holopad.

Ben must have just stepped out of the fresher. His hair is damp. He dries it off with a small black machine. The air it produces is hot and violent as it blows into his strands.

She cannot tell him. She never does. He cannot know.

The machine is noisy and distracting in a room full of silence. When he finally shuts it off, he slicks his hair back and she finds it in a more familiar shape: long and fluffy, too tempting to touch. She can’t help but smile.

Then he turns, and his eyes meet hers. They pause, both of their heartbeats fumbling in their chests. Ben opens his mouth, then shuts it close. She waits for him to speak. She’s splayed on her own bed, dressed in her unflattering sleeping clothes. Not that it matters. He’s dressed in sleeping clothes too.

“I,” he voices out. Then he clears his throat, and the tips of his ears burn pink. “You’re in my bed.”

“Oh,” she says. Her cheeks burn too. He doesn’t look away from her, even though his face is pinched. She swallows, and then straightens her back, closes her legs, does everything that Leia had once taught her about being “proper”. “I didn’t…”

“It’s all right,” he says. He turns away again, and she doesn’t understand why until he grabs a blanket from closet on the wall. She watches him turn. The soft fabric of his nightshirt doesn’t hide the bulk of his frame all too well. She clutches her holopad even tighter. “It’s not your fault.”

He takes a seat across the room. The shape of it forms dimly, like it’s set underneath a weak light. When her eyes adjust, she realizes that he’s making his bed on the far couch. It’s a large thing made of dark leather, but it can’t be comfortable. She scrambles onto her knees.

“Ben,” she calls out. “You don’t have to. It’s okay. I’ll be gone—the bond will disappear in a while.”

He freezes then. The line of his shoulders is taut. She stares back with her lips parted, unsure of what else to say. Her own words sting just as hard when she hears them.

“It’s all right,” he says again, softer this time. He turns his head until he’s staring at the floor, but he refuses to meet her eyes. She catches the shape of his lashes caught in the lamplight. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs along with it. “You should get some rest. Goodnight, Rey.”

They haven’t had a conversation of this length in a long, long time. Rey’s heart swells and plummets at the same time. She silently begs him to look at her, to look at her please. Please.

But her shields remain shut, and he does not hear her plea.

“Goodnight, Ben,” she whispers.

He folds himself on the couch. Even with two blankets, he still looks cold. Just as she’s contemplating offering another one of hers, he vanishes, and she is left alone once more in a much too empty room.

 

 

Riosa is a normally a bleak place, full of factories and mines. For once, its major city has been redecorated into something jovial. Banners and flags have lined the streets. They’re all in a cheerful shade of blood red, First Order red, complete with black accents. Rey feels like a prisoner awaiting execution as she strides down the street in her hooded cloak.

Her lightsaber is snug and hidden by her hip. Its weight is a comforting reminder of her mission—or her lack of one. She does not have to kill. She does not have to wound. She only has to encounter.

The crowd is large and boisterous. The rats like her remain at the far end, violently herded into place by the Stormtroopers around them. Rey scowls as one jostles her too harshly. She shoots him a glare but backs down, unwilling to start a scene. They’re in the central plaza, a giant circular space that marks the heart of the city. At the front is a slightly elevated platform. It’s also lined by Stormtroopers and local security.

In front of the line are several more affluent citizens. They gasp and preen, craning their necks as they fan themselves in their seats. The rest of them have to stand.

Rey mumbles the details of the crowd into her hidden comm. Snap mumbles affirmative. She gazes across the square, taking in every detail of the place, every bit of security.

Hundreds of klicks above, Poe’s team is slowly making their way into Riosa airspace.

Rey doesn’t pay attention to the opening remarks. She doesn’t pay attention to the Riosa spokesperson. She doesn’t care about the wild cheering that erupts. She only holds her breath when Ben finally steps onto the platform. He is tall and broad, a giant even amongst other lifeforms. The entire crowd is hushed into awed, fearful silence.

He raises his head. His helmet shines blood red with the sun. Even in the spring day, he is cloaked head to toe in black. For a moment, he just stands there, breathing. His neck turns. Rey feels him through the Force, dark and subdued. She allows herself to be opened slightly, subtly, a whiff of fragrance in a room of cloying smoke.

He turns his head. She’s seated near the back. She can’t even make out the details of the face of the man beside Ben. But he turns and his helmet catches her off-guard. Rey breathes. Her entire body is filled with an eerie calm. The light of the Force. A wave of relief.

She can see him perfectly in an unbroken line.

Ben looks at her. He sees her. He meets her eyes through his mask.

Rey tries to smile.

She feels him gasp through the Force.

 _Rey?_ He asks, breathless and confused and impatient all at once.

_It’s me._

_You’re really here?_

_Yes._

_Why?_ Suspicion.

She shakes her head.

For a moment, he understands. She catches a whiff of it but then he pulls back, getting ready to start his speech. Rey freezes. He doesn’t—he doesn’t understand the whole picture. He can’t think that she would… that she is here to…

 _Meet me after the ceremony,_ he says. It is not a request. It is a hard demand.

Rey doesn’t even fight it. She should be more ashamed of herself, but she isn’t.

Kylo Ren takes what he wants. So does Rey of Jakku.

She spends the entire time just staring at him, not taking in a single word of what he says. It’s easier that way. Much easier to ignore the meaning behind his hollow words.

These Riosian factories will be invigorated. But she wonders if that just means they will return to being slaves.

 

 

 

Riosa has a million little corners where the sun doesn’t shine. Rey finds Ben in one of these corners, hidden away on top of a crumbling staircase. They’re barricaded in by clay walls, shielded high and mighty from prying eyes and ears. He’s shed his mask, and exchanged his cape for something simpler—but still black. They don’t have much time.

Rey pauses at the foot of the staircase. Ben knows she’s there the instant she appears. He looks down. Their eyes meet and a second passes between them. His eyes are alighted by the sun. Rey parts her lips. She isn’t sure—

He rises to his full height. His eyes crinkle at the edges. There, at the edges, beside his handsome scar. He doesn’t quite smile. Rey’s throat closes up.

She ascends the steps carefully, slowly, so as not to trip. Ben doesn’t sit down. He only stands there, watching her, his gloved fists clenched at his sides. When she breathes, he does the same.

“Ben,” she says, in lieu of a greeting. How she loves saying his name.

“Rey,” he returns, always in awe. Always reeling. Always precious. How she loves hearing her name from him. She almost does smile again.

“Are you here to kill me?” Ben asks.

There is no animosity in his tone. There is no anger in his posture. It’s a natural question, one without malice or regret. He almost smiles then, and Rey thinks that if she said _yes_ , he probably wouldn't even mind.

“No.” She steps closer. “I just wanted to see you, Ben.”

“You could have just seen me on the holonet,” he jokes. “In the comfort of your own bed. No long lines, no hot sun. These broadcasters know all my best angles.”

Rey laughs. She can’t help it. She misses him _so much_. She misses him so much that seeing him again feels like fire in her veins. It’s frightening to care about someone else on this level. It’s frightening to see what she has become. She is only a beacon now, a beacon zeroing in on the closest way for the two points of their bodies to meet.

The Force wills it. The air crackles with static when she runs. She is tired of waiting. She is tired of being alone. She is tired of lying.

But with Ben, all of it is laid bare. All her darkest secrets. Her inner voice. The child that cried out at being abandoned.

With Ben, she does not have to hide. She has seen his very worst. He has seen hers.

She could kill him, and he would let her. He would forgive her.

She doesn’t understand it, being in love. But she shakes her head and pushes all those frightening thoughts away. All that matters right now is finding him, making sure he’s _real_ , not just a mirage through the Force.

She bumps into him with painful force. Her arms fly up to wrap around his stupidly broad shoulders. She presses her dusty face against his chest. Ben stands stiff as a board, his arms lying uselessly by his sides. She kicks him and then he blinks, finally returning her embrace. It’s a tentative gesture, a flash of impulse. She hasn’t touched him in so long, hasn’t _held_ him like this like she’s always wanted to. But somehow, she knows how.

Ben returns the hug with painful awkwardness, almost like a nerf calf learning how to walk for the first time.

“Rey,” he whispers. His broad hand encompasses the small of her back. The other one is gentle in her hair. His gloved fingers are warm against her scalp. She feels his heartbeat pounding like mad against her ear. She grins then, squeezing him tighter, amused at his nerves. His heartbeat is more relentless than a drum, more tender than a lullaby. It threatens to break free from his chest.

She feels the same.

 _I missed you,_ she admits to thin air. She can’t admit it to him, not just yet. Not in the right words. But the meaning of her breath must have travelled through the Force. Ben presses his face to the top of her head. Not shy. Not anymore.

 _I never thought I would see you ever again,_ he admits. _Not like this._

_Why not?_

She spares him a glance. Ben bows his head, and his hair frames his face.

_You know why._

She does. She knows it all too well. The comm almost burns where it’s hidden in her pocket. It’s shut off tight and wrapped in cloth. It can’t pick anything up. She made sure of that.

He raises a shaky hand and pushes the hood off her head the rest of the way. His thumb brushes her jawline, soft and not unwelcome. He is warm all around, warm and solid, most definitely real. If she doesn’t look up, if she doesn’t think of tomorrow or the day after, then she doesn’t have to think about who he really is—and who she really is.

Their hearts beat in unison to the drum of the Force.

“The other side of Riosa is beautiful at this time of the year,” he murmurs. Rey steps away infinitesimally, just so she can look at him. Her hands fall down his arms until she can grip his elbows.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yes. You should see the flowers.” He plays with the hem of her shirt. When his finger brushes an inch of exposed skin, she shivers. “They built a giant terrarium to protect native species from the smoke.”

“That’s… good. It would be a shame to let the flowers die.”

“It would.” His arm wraps around her torso easily. “But they’re hardy things, you know? They adapted to the pollution. They don’t bloom as brightly anymore, but the local scientists are trying. Trying to get them back to what they used to be.”

“They don’t have to force them to go back to what they were before,” Rey whispers. “I think the flowers are beautiful no matter what.”

Shadowed by the wind, Ben’s smirk almost resembles a smile.

“I thought you hadn’t seen them yet.”

“Just a guess,” she says, and buries her hand in the back of his neck. She tugs him down. He is liquid as he yields to her gentle pull. Ben’s face falls, his features growing larger and larger as he approaches hers.

He seals the space between them. Their lips meet in a simple kiss. Rey’s eyes flutter shut as she grips the back of his neck, as his arms tighten around her. The world roars to stillness inside of her ears. The Force is quiet.

He is warm. His mouth is soft. His breath is gentle on her cheeks. All these are things that she will treasure until the end of time.

She’s never kissed anyone before. Not like this. Ben lifts a hand to cup her jaw. She lets him touch her, lets him hold her tight, just as they explore soft touches and tentative brushes. Maybe he’s afraid to press his lips against hers too roughly. Maybe she’s afraid of doing it wrong. Maybe they’re both afraid that what is happening is not real.

But it has to be. It’s the only thing that she’s been sure of for weeks.

She doesn’t know who pulls away first. She knows that neither of them wants to, but they have to. Ben’s forehead is pressed against hers. She smiles then, and he returns the gesture, almost laughing as she does.

“Does that mean that you’ll see the flowers with me?” he asks. Rey bites her lip.

“I—now?”

“Come with me, Rey,” he asks. His voice lowers. “Please.”

 _Not just now_ , she can hear him think. _Forever._

Here they are again: two children begging each other to stay.

“Ben,” she says, trying to be gentle. “You know I can’t. They’d kill me.”

“They won’t.” His jaw trembles. His embrace tightens to swiftly that it’s almost painful. “I’ll protect you. I’d kill anyone who would dare to lay a hand on you. I would kill anyone who even looked at you the wrong way. The offer still stands, Rey. I would—”

“I don’t want to have to be protected,” she says. “Not like that, Ben.”

His face falls, and his arms loosen, and she knows he understands.

_It was just another dream._

And then the sky explodes.

Ben embraces her, shielding her with his body. It’s unnecessary. Rey presses her palms to his chest as they both look up with awe. The spring blue sky is punctuated by white dots, by fire. The atmosphere is thin, and all those klicks away, the remnants of the Finalizer are crumbling into the planet’s gravitational pull.

Ben’s eyes are wide.

“Kriff,” he spits, his hackles rising. The city is filled with sirens. Ben’s comm crackles from inside his coat.

 _Supreme Leader,_ somebody calls. _The Finalizer has been attacked by rebels. I repeat, the Finalizer has been attacked. The men are at their stations, but the second bridgeway is—_

When Ben looks at her again, she feels her chest close up painfully.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. Her voice is wet.

Months ago, he would have responded with anger. Instead, he just continues to hold her, his dark eyes shining with something that she can’t name.

He doesn’t respond. He leans forward to press his lips to her forehead. Then he pulls away, tugging on his cape and his helmet.

“I have to go,” he says. “You should too. Before they… Before they find you.”

She nods.

“Goodbye, Ben.”

His eyes shine, and then they are covered again by his mask.

“It was good to see you again,” he says. His voice crackles, dark and modulated. He hesitates, and then turns away.

His back is all that she sees now. He dashes down the steps, faster than a jet. In a fit of bravery, Rey leaps down and tugs at his wrist. Ben skids to a stop.

“Wait!” she yells. She says the words even before she can think. “How do we stop this? For good?”

Time freezes. Ben stares at her from behind his mask. What expression he is wearing, she doesn’t know. She is unsure.

He squeezes her wrist.

“I don’t know,” he admits. His voice is a forlorn ghost, a sodden whisper. His gloved hand skims the bare skin of her palm. “But you are the most powerful _being_ in this galaxy, Rey. Don’t forget that.”

The alarms blare. Ben drops her hand, and he disappears down the abandoned street.

Rey swallows. She clenches her hand into a fist and rests it on her chest, right above her heart.

 

 

 

Rey is a warrior. 

This is what they think when they see her gliding across the battlefield, her lightsaber poised to strike.

Rey is a Jedi.

This is what they think when they see her pushing aside troopers with the Force.

Rey is a hero.

This is what they think when they see her pushing the gates open, flooding the room and allowing the Resistance army in.

Take the throne and cut off the snake’s head.

She feels Ben’s presence through the Force before she even spots him. She spins around and kicks a trooper aside, avoiding the charge of his blasters. She swings her saber in a wide arc and cuts them all away.

These men, they could have been Finn’s brothers.

This is senseless.

The air grows thick with energy. A Resistance member screams. Ben shoves him aside. He is large and looming—a monolith of darkness. His mask is cracked and red, angry and screaming even as his own mouth is shut.

“Get him, Rey!”

She barely hears them. Their words are muffled in her ears. It’s like the world has been submerged underwater. The Supreme Leader turns his head and she meets his eyes. Everything goes still.

Blasters fire all around them. Stormtroopers are shoved aside. An explosion sounds in the distance, kicking up dust and dirt. Rebels fall. Rey breathes—inhales, exhales. Her chest heaves as she lifts her saber.

Ben approaches her, his strides swift.

She meets him, approaching with the same careful intensity.

All blaster bolts that fall upon their path are shoved aside.

All weapons that fall upon their path are crumpled and destroyed.

All noises that bleed into her ears are drowned out by the noise of the Force humming and purring at the back of her head, at the back of his, right between them. All that she focuses on is his figure in front of her, the way he does not hesitate. The way he approaches with magnetic intensity, with quiet desperation.

He is so near now. The lightsaber hums in her hands. His own weapon thrums in his.

They raise each weapon to strike.

Rey is no hero. Rey is no Jedi.

She drops hers. It shuts off with a dull click, that luminous light now replaced by thin air. It falls to the ground and rolls by her feet.

Ben’s lightsaber falls to the ground along with hers.

She sobs. 

_I don’t want to fight you anymore. I don't believe in any of this._

She leaps forward, her arms outstretched. The caricature of an attack. The caricature of a punch. Ben doesn’t stop moving. He catches her, quick and firm, and she clings onto him harder than she has gripped anything before.

The battle rages all around them as the Jedi Killer and the Last Jedi are at peace.

Ben’s mask brushes the top of her head.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice crackling. She nods.

“Yes. I’ve never been surer about anything else in my life.”

His arms tighten. The smoke has only started to clear.

“Good,” he whispers. “Then let them know. Let them see.”

Rey fists her hands in the back of his tunic. She pulls away infinitesimally, only once to watch the rest of the battle unfold—only to see two sides staring aghast in horror at their frozen embrace.

Nobody breathes for a hot second. Even behind their masks, the Stormtroopers are frozen. Rey sees Resistance members with their eyes wide, uncomprehending. Others seem ready to boil over with anger. She opens her palm, ready to call her saber. Ben sets her back down on the ground gently, softly, only to do the same.

And then someone—some First Order officer—yells and shoots. Ben stops the bolt mid-air, only to return it to its source.

All hell breaks loose.

“Kriff,” Rey swears. She untangles herself from him as she calls the lightsaber to her palm. “I thought this would have gone a lot smoother.”

“You’re always so optimistic about seeing the good in people,” Ben only hums. His lightsaber crackles to life, reflecting red off of his mask. They stand back to back, their sabers drawn and luminous. Furious. The rest of the armies blur together in a formless mass. Enemies become allies—if only to turn against the traitors. “But that’s what I love about you.”

She laughs, even as the first officer moves to be struck by her blade.

“Don’t lose hope just yet,” she warns. “I’m sure they’ll understand. Eventually.”

“After half of them are dead?” 

She shakes her head. _“Ben._ You’re terrible.”

Sparks fly as he moves to block the shot above her head, just as she jabs the spear that has come too close to his ribs. They fight fluidly, two gears working together, two figures blurring into one mass.

“You love me for it,” he grumbles.

He roars as he slices a soldier in half. Rey pants as she blocks a violent blow.

“I do.”

He smiles beneath his mask.

Maybe that’s all they need.


End file.
